today
i was walking along
like a fresh blessing
in the morning.
i love the city in the morning:
the quiet way the breeze places,
through green leaves and blackbirds.
it's like all our mistakes and humanness are wiped clean
and only promise and possibility awaits.
i walk along
with honeysuckle flowers in my curling hair.
mr paris led me and my love to a honeysuckle climber this morning,
saying: "we only live once"
his grief emblazoned on a red rose on his backpack.
he shows us how
to bite off the ends and draw in the honeysuckle nectar,
telling me:
"leonie, i know of no other flower than the honeysuckle that is so similar to your essence."
so i walk
the city morning
with love, friendship, grief and life in my hair.
i walk beside men and women:
a woman dressed like a man, smoking furtively.
instead of screwing my eyes up in judgement,
i whisper to her:
i love you anyway.
a thin man walks quickly, as though harried and fearful
about being late, about being lost, about being wrong,
and i whisper to him:
i love you anyway.
every man and woman i walk beside,
i watch them silently,
taking in all their parts,
and i want to love them with all of myself.
i want to bless them, i want them to know they are not alone,
i want them to have a good day.
and the thought strikes me,
as i walk like a miandering honeysuckled hair angel in the city morning,
following others and showering them with love,
that maybe, just maybe, just definitely,
that there were angels following me whispering:
i love you anyway. you are good. you are loved. i see you.
